|
It's dark now at the carpark |
|
Take the last seat in the last cart |
|
Hear the breaking of bones when you hold her hand |
|
The morning has spoken |
|
All the bastards have choken |
|
She has stolen the crown |
|
Now you'll feel her wrath |
|
She writes her diary |
|
She is alone in her secret society |
|
She's got cheeks like peaches |
|
You can hear how she preaches |
|
And we all are entitled to understand |
|
Her moral is leaking |
|
And she still keeps on seeking |
|
For the latest identity |
|
In the lego tower marching around |
|
Hear the empty howl in the quiet town |
|
Misfit sentences, worn out metaphors |
|
She is alone in her secret society |
